


Sights Set On You

by distortedreality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek in a werewolf costume, Halloween feels, M/M, because I love irony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distortedreality/pseuds/distortedreality
Summary: Derek gets roped into doing Isaac’s shift at the Halloween Carnival. Derek hates haunted houses. Stiles is a very cute, very not afraid, haunted house customer. Derek likes what he sees.





	Sights Set On You

Derek only does it as a favor to Isaac, and he immediately questions why. Isaac had called him at six in the morning and frantically asked him to cover his shift – at the freaking _carnival_ of all places.

He was pretty sure Isaac had called him that early on purpose, knowing Derek couldn’t function at a normal human level before his second Americano. That was Derek’s only reasoning for why he had somehow agreed to fill in for Isaac that afternoon, while his friend was gallivanting off somewhere with his newest flavor of the month.

By the time Derek had properly woken up and filled his veins with caffeine, he called Isaac back to rescind his agreement. Derek was not a people person, and standing for eight hours in a crowd of screaming children, flashing lights, and pumping pop music couldn’t be further from his idea of a fun night. Derek’s idea of fun was a nice quiet Saturday night on the couch with his sister’s cat that he’d gotten roped into babysitting. He was starting to notice a pattern.

“Where’s your Halloween spirit?” Isaac cried as soon as he picked up the phone, not even bothering to say hello. “You can’t back out now.”

“Yes I can. And I am,” Derek replied.

Chester the cat meowed and curled up on his lap.

“Not unless you want me to get fired.”

“Won’t you get fired when someone who is decidedly _not you_ turns up for your shift? We can’t exactly pull off a _Parent Trap_ , we look nothing alike.” Derek smiled down at Chester who curled his tail around Derek’s wrist.

“They won’t know. You’ll be in costume the whole time.”

“What the fuck?” Derek groaned. “What do you even do again?”

“Werewolf in a haunted house. It’s a pretty great gig,” Isaac replied. A girlish giggle sounded in the background of his end of the call. “Look, I’m gonna go…”

“Oh for god sake,” Derek groaned. “Fine. I don’t exactly have a werewolf costume lying around here, though.”

“It’s in a box outside your front door,” Isaac replied in a tone that was far too breathy considering he was still on the phone with Derek.

“I hate you,” Derek groaned, and hung up the phone.

Sure enough, a small plastic tub was sitting in the hallway outside his front door. Inside was quite possibly the worst thing Derek had ever laid his eyes on.

The plastic werewolf mask was a faded brown colour, its mouth open in a snarl with fake blood splattered over its chin and dotting its yellowing teeth. The fur on the sides and back of the mask felt like straw, and was matted in some spots with a yellowish substance that Derek prayed wasn’t vomit. The rest of the costume was apparently some kind of long black robe a la Grim Reaper, along with gloves that matched the mask, with long rubbery claws extending from the furry fingertips. Apparently he was supposed to be some kind of werewolf/demon/reaper crossover. The people who invented the costume must have done so with tears in their eyes. It was something born from the depths of clothing hell. There were no shoes in the box, so Derek decided he was going to wear his converses as a fuck you that hopefully Isaac would feel all the way to his house.

By the time the clock chimed two, Derek was in the town square, standing by the side entrance to the haunted house in full werewolf getup. Hopefully nobody would ask him to take off the mask, lest he be verified as not being Isaac. Not that anybody would probably give a shit.

“Name?” a teenage girl popping a bubble of pink gum asked.

“Lahey,” Derek replied with a sigh.

She checked his name off on her clipboard and waved him through the door.

“Go to room eight,” she said as she closed the door behind him.

Derek knew it was irrational, but as soon as the direct link to the outside world shut behind him he started to feel scared. He’d never liked scary things, especially horror movies, and now he was basically walking through one. He’d only ever been in a haunted house once, and he’d been ten years old, going in accidentally after Peter told him the side door was the entrance to the bathroom. Derek hadn’t needed to go to the bathroom anymore after that traumatic ordeal, but did have an entirely new category of embarrassment to compare the rest of his life experiences to.

It took him about thirty seconds to realize that he didn’t know where room eight was, since he didn’t actually work there. Since the attraction wasn’t officially open yet, there were a few of Isaac’s terrifyingly dressed colleagues milling about the darkened halls, chatting with each other. Derek shuffled over to a small girl dressed like Regan from _The Exorcist_ , and asked for directions.

“Just down the hall to the right, hon,” she smiled. Half of her teeth were blacked out with fake blood. Derek wasn’t going to survive the shift without having a heart attack. If Isaac didn’t write a phenomenal eulogy to read at his funeral he was going to haunt the shit out of him.

After what felt like an eternity stuck in Derek’s literal version of hell, the lights dimmed even more and the smoke machines littered about the rooms churned to life, pumping out sweet smelling clouds. Derek shivered as the temperature dropped and he backed himself into a corner. No way was he letting any monsters sneak up on him.

The way Isaac had described his mystical job in the past was that it was “radical” and “exciting” and “so much fun, Derek”. Derek didn’t agree in the slightest. The first customer that rounded the corner and appeared through the smoke scared Derek so much that he screamed. Luckily the werewolf mask muffled the sound enough that it apparently sounded like the roar of a werewolf that hadn’t yet hit puberty, and had sufficiently scared the two young girls who sprinted to the next room.

Derek readjusted his position to be next to the door and pressed against the same wall, so that he was out of view of any patrons unless they turned around. It also meant that he could be less surprised when they walked in.

Derek was quietly minding his own business leaning against the wall and trying not to jump in fright whenever someone walked into his room, when _he_ walked in.

Derek was barely paying attention, more concerned with using his rubber claws to undo the knots the fur on his gloves had tangled into, when two guys his age walked into the room. One was clinging to the arm of the other and frantically looking around, while his friend was laughing and gesturing wildly as he talked.

“Oh fuck,” screamed the one who looked even more scared shitless than Derek.

Derek jumped slightly at the noise, and raised one paw in a halfhearted swipe towards them.

“Dude, cool costume,” the other one said to Derek. Derek was barely listening anymore, because the guy was quite possibly the best looking dude he’d ever seen. He wasn’t just hot, he was ridiculously cute, with his slightly upturned nose and smattering of moles across his cheek. Without thinking, Derek stumbled towards them. The first guy screamed again and yanked his friend’s arm towards the door that lead to the next room. The cute guy stumbled and laughed at his friend. He waved a hand at Derek and they disappeared through the smoke into the next room.

Derek stood frozen for a moment before barreling after them, nearly tripping over his own feet. He could hear the cute guy yelling “Scott, chill” over the sounds of the haunted house, and followed them to the next room. The guy who was apparently called Scott locked eyes with Derek as he appeared through the smokey doorway, and let out a shrill shriek, yanking on his friend’s arm again. Cute guy laughed when Scott fell into the doorway in his haste to get away and wiggled his eyebrows at Derek. Derek leaned towards him again, but he stopped once he realized what he was doing. What was he going to do if the cute guy let him get all up in his space? Kiss him with his mask on? That would certainly be something to see.

In the few seconds that Derek hesitated, Scott had pulled his cute friend out of Derek’s view. Derek moved through the haunted house until he reached the exit, just catching sight of them as they ran through the door, being chased by someone with a fake chainsaw.

Derek swore to himself and leant against the wall. The guy with the chainsaw nodded at him, and moved back into the depths of the haunted house. With his ear pressed against the door, Derek could just pick out the sound of the cute guy’s voice as they walked.

“Dude, we are so going back in there tomorrow,” cute guy said.

“Stiles, you can literally get fucked,” Scott replied in a panicked tone, before the sound of their voices blended into the noise of the crowd.

So _Stiles_ then. Derek smirked to himself. His smirk quickly turned to a muffled scream when a couple rounded the corner and screamed at the sight of him. They sprinted past him to the door, and Derek had no idea why he didn’t follow them out for the sake of his own sanity.

*

“I need to take your shift tomorrow,” Derek shouted as soon as Isaac picked up the phone.

“Well that’s quite a change. Did the fur rub off on you?” Isaac teased.

“Shut up. There’s a cute guy coming back tomorrow. _Stiles_. I need to be there. The future of my love life depends on it.”

“Ah, yes, doing it for the dick. I’m so proud of you, young Padawan.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore. But I’m doing your shift whether you like it or not.”

“Fine by me,” Isaac laughed. “Go get your boy.”

*

Derek was indeed going to get his boy.

He’d never done a job more attentively in his life, shooting to attention every time someone walked through the door, and somehow avoiding being scared shitless whenever anyone appeared through the smoke. It probably had something to do with his heart rate already being through the roof at the prospect of seeing _Stiles_ again that it couldn’t take any more adrenaline, and was just deciding to flat out ignore all feelings of terror.

By seven o’clock Derek was starting to get disheartened. Since it was a Sunday, the carnival in the town square closed earlier, so his chance to see _Stiles_ was dwindling rapidly. He was close to taking the mask off and throwing in the towel when he heard the familiar melodic laugh that _Stiles_ had been expressing the day before.

“It’s fun, Malia, I swear,” Stiles cried from a few rooms over. Derek straightened up and stared at the door.

“I don’t believe you,” a girl replied in what sounded like an extremely pissed off voice. “Now I see why Scott didn’t want to come back in with you. If I see a single—“ her voice was cut off by a strangled shriek as they walked into Derek’s room and he stepped into their space. He was allowed only a moment to look at Stiles up close before a fist was being slammed into the side of his head and he tumbled to the ground with a dull thud.

“ _Malia_ ,” he faintly heard Stiles scream.

“Oh, shit,” she replied.

Derek shook his head from side to side and steeled himself so he wouldn’t throw up. The girl had a hell of a right hook.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Stiles cried, grabbing Derek’s arm. He helped Derek into a standing position, which Derek went with since Stiles was allowing Derek to rest his weight against him.

“’S fine,” Derek mumbled, leaning his head on Stiles’ shoulder. He could smell Stiles’ cologne faintly through the mask. It almost made getting clocked in the head worth it.

“We’ll take you to the first aid station,” Stiles said. He directed them back towards the entrance, the girl at the front waving them through when Malia glared at her.

Derek was confused by the weird looks everyone was giving him as they shuffled towards the first aid station, before remembering he was clad in a werewolf getup and a huge black robe. It wasn’t your typical carnival outfit, and they were far enough away from the haunted house for it to look extremely out of place.

Malia jogged ahead to alert the nurses, which Derek was extremely ok with. He slipped his arm tighter around Stiles’ waist under the guise of holding on. Stiles’ biceps felt ridiculously firm, and they bulged slightly as they took Derek’s weight.

Stiles didn’t let go of Derek once they got to the first aid station, instead sitting on the bench seat next to him and keeping his arm around him. When the nurse hurried over to ask what the issue was, Stiles answered for him and said he might have a broken nose. The nurse nodded and walked away, presumably to get an ice pack, but Derek wasn’t paying attention. He was basking in the almost _boyfriend_ way Stiles way treating him. He could definitely get used to it.

“I really am so sorry,” Stiles said again. “I knew Malia was kind of a fight more than flight kind of girl, but I didn’t know she’d _actually_ punch someone in the face. I don’t know how my best friend handles her, honestly.” Stiles chuckled and turned to face Derek dead on. “Hey, you’re not, like, concussed or anything, are you? Because you haven’t said more than two words since you got up and I’m starting to get a little worried.”

“Not concussed,” Derek said. “Hopefully. Tell your friend she should start taking boxing classes.”

“Will do,” Stiles said with a smile. “We should get your mask off so the nurse can check your nose when she comes back.”

Derek nodded and reluctantly removed his arm from around Stiles’ waist to pull his mask off. He winced as it brushed over his left cheekbone, so he was probably going to have a hell of a bruise pop up there over the next few days. He groaned appreciatively at the rush of cool air on his face, grateful that he wasn’t smelling rubber and recycled old breath anymore.

“How bad does it look?” Derek asked as he turned towards Stiles. Stiles who was staring at him with his mouth hanging open slightly. It was just enough for Derek to see the pink of his tongue. He wanted to bite it.

“Uh,” Stiles started, before trailing off. His eyes flittered between Derek’s face and where his own hands were twisting the strings of his red hoodie.

“Is it that bad?” Derek asked.

“God no, nothing’s bad. There isn’t one inch of bad on your face, holy fuck,” Stiles hissed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Are you ok?” Derek asked, his eyes locked on the pale expanse of Stiles’ neck. His eyes darted over the moles that disappeared under the neck of his hoodie. He wondered if they went all the way down his body.

“Uh, just a surprise,” Stiles said. It sounded like he was having trouble breathing.

“What, the fact that my real face isn’t a werewolf?” Derek teased. Stiles’ cheeks flushed red. Derek wondered if his whole body could flush like that, if he got worked up enough.

“Kind of,” Stiles replied, finally turning back towards Derek. “You’re just way more attractive than I anticipated. Like, _way_ more.”

“Oh,” Derek said, stopping short. “Um, so are you?”

“You don’t have to say it back as, like, a consolation prize, dude,” Stiles said. He pushed his hand through his hair and flashed a smile at Derek. “Sorry if I’ve made it weird, it just took me by surprise.”

“I’m not supposed to be here today,” Derek blurted out.

“Uh huh,” Stiles replied, cocking an eyebrow.

“I only came because you told your friend you were coming back today.”

“Wait, seriously?” Stiles cried. His smile stretched across his face. At least that put Derek in the realm of ‘romantic’ rather than ‘stalker’.

“You’re simultaneously the cutest and hottest guy I’ve ever seen, which is weird because those two categories don’t usually mix so well—“

“You should kiss me, like, right now,” Stiles declared, leaning in closer.

“Great idea,” Derek replied, before leaning into Stiles’ space and pressing their lips together. Stiles let out a muffled noise and reached up to cup the back of Derek’s neck, holding him in closer. After a moment Derek leaned back, the pressure against his cheekbone where Malia hit him getting to be too much.

The nurse chose that moment to wander up to them and hand Derek an ice pack, telling him to hold it where it hurt and she’d be back to check on him. Stiles took the ice pack from Derek and held it to his cheek, where Derek was pretty sure was probably bright red.

“So, uh, you should probably tell me your name,” Stiles joked. His eyes flicked up to Derek’s before settling back down to where the ice pack was resting against his skin.

“Derek.”

“Not the name I would’ve picked for a werewolf,” Stiles teased. “But I like it.”

“I like you,” Derek replied.

"It's mutual," Stiles replied, biting his lip shyly.

Thank god for Isaac and his lack of work ethic.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://selectedparagraphs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
